


The Favor

by kulina



Category: Waterparks (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 13:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16347290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kulina/pseuds/kulina
Summary: Jawn's an art school dropout-turned bartender.Awsten's a filthy rich high school kid who needs a favor.What could go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was almost fully inspired by the song 18 by anarbor.  
> although the guy singing is obviously not jawn, i think the voice sounds just like him if you do the equivalent of squinting with your ears.

Jawn’s eyebrows rose as the newest customer stalked through the door. He recognized the guy - he’d been a sophomore when Jawn was a senior - but Jawn was in college now (or rather, he was supposed to be), and the kid… well, he would still have been stuck in high school. They’d never spoken, but word got around quickly when he’d showed up for the first time after Christmas break. 

The story was that his name was Awsten and he’d been kicked out of not a second but a third college preparatory academy. No private schools would open their doors to him after whatever had taken place at the last one (the rumors varied), so the local public school was the only choice. Of course, that didn’t stop Awsten from showing up every day in the back of a limo wearing his fancy, overpriced designer clothes. Bougie-ass bitch. 

Jawn had spent most of his high school down time in the art room with his hair pulled back in a ponytail and a pencil wedged behind his ear. The boys only crossed paths when Awsten was forced into a painting class. Jawn was in AP Art, so while he was working during his free period, Awsten was often dicking around in the background. Jawn would never forget how annoyed he used to get at Awsten’s endless bored and dramatic sighs.

“Hey, you’re Jawn Rocha, right?” 

Jawn glanced up from the beer mug he was drying and stared evenly at the kid. Lavender hair had replaced the blonde, but he was definitely still wearing Chanel. “We’re closing,” Jawn told him shortly.

“This will just take a second. I need a favor.” 

Jawn snorted and crossed behind the bar to hang the glass up. “I don’t even know you.”

“I’ll pay you.”

Jawn shook his head, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. Part of him wondered if the twink was hitting on him. “Go home, kid.” 

“I haven’t even told you what I want you to do!”

“I don’t need to hear it,” he sighed, flipping the dish towel onto his shoulder. “I’m not giving you booze for a party, I’m not selling you pot, and I’m certainly not hooking you up with a dealer. I don’t even _have_ a dealer, actually, so-”

“It’s not any of that. I need you to come to my house tomorrow night and pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Jawn turned around and gaped at him. “Again - I literally don’t even know you.”

“I wouldn’t ask unless it was an emergency.”

“What the hell kind of ‘emergency' are you in?” 

“It’s…” He cut himself off and shook his head. “Intel isn’t part of the deal.”

“Intel,” Jawn scoffed under his breath. 

“Yeah, intel,” the kid replied defiantly, but Jawn couldn’t help but notice how emotionless his eyes were. 

“I ain’t nobody’s boyfriend,” Jawn declared, “and we’re closing, so go home.”

And then suddenly there were two hundred-dollar bills on the bar top. 

That had Jawn’s attention. “What’s this?”

“A retainer,” the guy replied. He looked a little smug - just a little, like somehow he’d know that Jawn was just barely scraping by but he didn’t want to show all of his cards. 

“How m-”

“I’ll give you five hundred for the night; I think that’s more than fair for what, two hours? Three at the most. I’ll have Sébastien leave the rest of the money in your car.” 

“Who’s…?” Jawn wasn’t about to try to imitate that flawless French accent. 

Awsten waved a hand, dismissing the question. “So will you do it?”

Jawn narrowed his eyes. “Why me?”

“The hair, the tattoos, the way you dress… And you’re older. And you work in a bar. You’re perfect.” 

“You wanna piss off your parents?” Jawn asked knowingly.

The kid shrugged, but he couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up his cheeks. 

Jawn laughed. “Alright, yeah. For five hundred dollars? That’s alright with me.”

“They’ve gotta believe it, though. You’ve gotta, like, hold my hand and shit,” he said awkwardly.

“Again, for five hundred dollars, I will do whatever you want except have sex with you and actually fall in love.”

The kid smiled, and for the first time, Jawn could read an actual expression in his eyes. God, he looked young…

“Wait - how old are you?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he dismissed quickly, all emotion locked down again. “Tomorrow at six, okay?”

Jawn sighed. “Alright. I’ll be there.” 

The boy pushed the money across the counter toward him, and alongside it, a slip of paper with an address and a phone number scribbled on it in all caps. “Actually - show up at six ten, okay? That’ll make them mad. Oh, and my name’s Awsten Knight. You should… probably know that before you come over.”

Jawn couldn’t help but smile. “Awsten Knight,” he repeated. “Got it.”

As Awsten backed toward the exit, he called, “Wear something ugly!” 

Jawn let out a laugh then. He shook his head. “Whatever you say, kid.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> take a quick peek at these:
> 
> https://imgur.com/ovdgepK  
> https://imgur.com/4TKHwHk

It was 6:17 when Jawn finally found his way into Awsten’s gated community. He’d been gunning for 6:10 like Awsten had asked (or rather, ordered), but he got a little lost. Jawn had never been to the rich section of town. 

He whipped past mansion after mansion and finally found, a little ways around a corner, a modest mailbox marked 2115 just beside a massive, iron gate with perfectly crafted swirls twisted all across it. He realized once he saw the gate that he’d been driving beside this property for nearly forty seconds; the iron fence spanned the entire street, interrupted by little white columns every so often. 

Jawn pulled into the “driveway” and paused when he realized the gate was shut. Was he supposed to get out and open it? Probably not. “Fuck,” he muttered, and he reached to the passenger seat for his phone. Just then, a voice came out of nowhere.

“Bonsoir, monsieur. Jawn Rocha, I presume?”

“Y-yeah,” Jawn stuttered in surprise. There was no one in sight.

“Marvelous. Sébastien is at the front door awaiting your arrival. Welcome to the Knight residence.”

While the man had been talking, Jawn had been able to spot a well-hidden security camera trained straight onto his car and, right underneath it, an intercom. Before he had much time to study it further, though, the gate slowly swung open.

Jawn took his foot off the brake and eased the car through the barrier and onto the drive. He caught sight of the gargantuan white house that had been hidden from view, and his breath seemed to get stuck in his throat. “Holy shit,” he whispered. He guided the car around a large arrangement of trees and flowers and an honest-to-god nude statue in a fountain but stopped when a young man, maybe twenty-five years old and wearing a neatly pressed suit, held a gloved hand out to him.

“Bonjour,” he greeted once Jawn had rolled the window down.

“Uh, hey,” Jawn replied. 

“Je m’appelle Sébastien,” the guy stated, and then he looked at Jawn expectantly. 

“Oh, um - Jawn,” he replied, hoping he’d responded properly. Was that French the guy was speaking? It sounded like French. “I’m Jawn.”

“Awsten avait raison; tu es _très_ mignon. Bien que tes cheveux soient affreux.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry, um - I don’t-”

“J'ai besoin que tu descentes jusqu'au bout des pavés et que tu fasses une bonne route, puis que tu ailles dans le parking, mais ne frappe pas les Porsche sinon Monsieur Knight va te tuer. Et moi.”

His eyes were wide as saucers. ”Wh-what? I don’t…”

“En français, s’il vous plaît. Je ne comprends pas anglais,” he snapped, looking annoyed.

Oh god, he hoped this guy wasn’t giving him directions or instructions. “I’m sorry, man - I have no idea what you’re saying.” At the guy’s blank expression, Jawn pointed to his chest and repeated slowly, “I…” He shook his head. “Don’t…” He pointed to his mouth. “Speak…” Then he motioned toward the other man. “French.” 

The guy tilted his head in confusion, and Jawn gulped. God, only he would get roped into some bullshit like this. How the hell…

“Let me call Awsten,” Jawn muttered, reaching for his phone again, but before he could, a hand closed around his forearm. He looked up to find Sébastien leaning in his window and grinning at him.

“Sorry,” he laughed. “I’m just messing with you.”

Jawn blinked and then let out a sigh, partly in relief and partly in annoyance. 

“I had to,” the guy explained. “No one my age is ever here other than Aws, but he’s younger, and I work for his parents. Plus, he knows me - he knows I speak English. But I’ve always wanted to try that, so you were my victim.”

“Oh my god,” Jawn chuckled.

_“Sébastien!”_ someone snarled.

Sébastien’s smile vanished. He straightened immediately and backed a step away from the car as a much older attendant strode up.

“Qu'est ce que tu crois faire?” the graying man demanded in a hiss. Then he turned to Jawn with a forced smile. “Bonjour, monsieur. Has Sébastien offered to park your car for you?”

“Um, a-actually, sir,” Sébastien stuttered, “Master Awsten asked me to-”

“En français,” he growled. 

“Master Awsten m'a demandé d'escorter Monsieur Rocha dans la maison.”

The man sighed in agitation. “Très bien.” Jawn could have sworn the guy muttered, “ _Typical_ ,” under his breath.

Sébastien opened the driver's door of Jawn’s car, and Jawn reached to remove the key from the ignition, but Sébastien held out a hand to stop him. “Non- I mean, no. He’ll park it for you.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.”

“Come on. I’ll take you inside.” Sébastien held a gloved hand out, but Jawn ignored it. As the older man slid into the seat Jawn had just vacated and then closed the door, Sébastien’s eyes sparkled. “You’re late.”

“He - Awsten, he told me to be.”

“You’re later than late,” Sébastien said as they started away. “Awsten thinks you’re not coming. He thinks you took the money and stood him up.” 

The car sputtered behind them as the old man in the fancy outfit shifted it into gear and drove it across the cobblestones.

“I was just doing what he-”

“He’s in there, panicked. So - here, stop.” Sébastien glanced up as the car rounded the corner of the house and then quickly reached out to muss Jawn’s hair and adjust his dark t-shirt.

“Hey!”

“Yes,” Sébastien murmured, stepping back and admiring Jawn’s ripped jeans and half-ponytail. 

“What?”

“Nothing, just… you’ll do well in there. They’ll hate you.” 

Jawn huffed.

“But that’s what you’re here for, after all. You know tonight is a very important night.” Sébastien started back toward the massive double doors, leaving Jawn alone on the tall marble staircase. 

“Important night?” he echoed, hurrying to catch up. “Is it his birthday? Shit, I didn’t get him anything.”

“Very funny,” Sebastian replied dryly. “You may do the least work, but you have the most important job.”

Jawn's forehead crinkled in confusion. “Dude, what are you talking about? Is this another joke?”

Sébastien faltered, and an uneasy look crossed his face. “Mon dieu... Did Awsten not tell you why h-” But before he could continue, both doors opened from the inside, seamless and simultaneous as a fucking Disney movie. As if a switch had flipped, a comfortable smile graced Sébastien’s features. “Welcome, Monsieur Rocha, to the Knight mansion.”


End file.
